


Every Full Moon

by Fandomtrashed13



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with slight humor, Drinking, Gen, Mark is a werewolf since Matt is a vampire, Werewolf Transformations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:40:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandomtrashed13/pseuds/Fandomtrashed13
Summary: Mark made his way to the bathroom and bared his teeth in the mirror. When he couldn't see what he was looking for, he pulled his lips back wih a finger. Sure enough, the beginning tips of a pair of fangs shown in the light of the bathroom.'Shit.'He swallowed and reached for his toothbrush, brushing them quickly and thoroughly while trying to avoid his reflection. When he was done, he quickly made his way to his room only to bump into Jon."Morning," his short friend said, yawning. Mark only nodded in response before hurrying into his room. There he checked the calender and cursed. There, circled in red ink many weeks ago was the 24th of October. In the right corner of the little box was a black circle. A full moon.





	Every Full Moon

   As soon as Mark woke up, he knew.

   He had had a good sleep. The type where as soon as you hit your pillow you're out like a light and when you wake up feeling well-rested and warm. Except for Mark, he felt a slight ache in his jaws; it was familar to him, like the smell of his favorite meal or the words of a dog-eared book read more than once. He hated how familar he had become with it; Mark had been trying with all his might to distance himself with his condition. 

   Mark made his way to the bathroom and bared his teeth in the mirror. When he couldn't see what he was looking for, he pulled his lips back wih a finger. To his dismay, the beginning tips of a pair of fangs shown in the light of the bathroom. 

   ' _Shit.'_

   Mark swallowed and reached for his toothbrush, brushing his teeth quickly and thoroughly while trying to avoid his reflection. When he was done, he quickly made his way to his room only to bump into Jon.

   "Morning," his short friend said, yawning. Mark only nodded in response before hurrying into his room. There he checked the calender and cursed. There, circled in red ink many weeks ago was the 24th of October. In the right corner of the little box was a black circle. A full moon.

   This week had gone by swimmingly for Mark. He had gotten some new books by Nicholas Sparks, had gone to the movies, meet a rather pretty and petite brunette the other day..."Shit," he cursed. He would have to call her and tell her he was sick. They had planned to go to a museum, the one downtown, then dinner but, no. Now he had to worry about not trying to rip his friends into shreds instead of wether or not his usual sweater would do for his date.

   Heaving a sigh, Mark made his way into the hallway. He'll just call his date and say that he threw up this morning. Sounds reasonagle enough.

   Downstairs, Jon was bustling around their kitchen, cracking eggs and setting plates. He had brought out the packet of mushrooms for Eduardo and the bag of frozen vegtables for Mark. Eduardo was at the coffee machine, pracitacally leaning against the fridge as he blearily watched the machine fill the pot. Last night, he had knocked over a large pot of sauce and jad to stay late to clean the spill up and, according to his boss at the restaurant he was working at, all of the dirty dishes in the kitchen. "He wants me to die, I'm telling you!" Eduardo had told them last nigh, hopping on one foot in order to remove a boot from his foot.

   "Morning guys," Mark greeted, earning a muffled groan from Eduardo. The exhausted man took a seat beside his blonde friend and took a long sip from his coffee.

   "It's not a good morning." Eduardo practically slammed his mug on the counter, making his friends jump. "I have to go to work and deal with that son of a bitch, deal with some whiny-ass customer, and will probably have to work late because my fucking life." 

   "It is never a morning without you swearing, Eduardo," Mark commented, smirking. 

   "Would you rather have me break this mug 'cause that was another way I vented my rage."

   "Please, don't," Jon said as he set plates in front of them. Both Mark and Eduardo muttered their thanks and began to ate. For a while, no one talked and the sound of cutlery on plate along with the sizzling from the pan as Jon prepared his own breakfast filled the silence. For a while, Mark relaxed and didn't think of fangs or full moons or his "condition" as they like to call it as he enjoyed his breakfast.

   It was only after the dishes had been put away did Mark remember what had made him so upset this morning. Although he loathed to get rid of the peacefull atmosphere-Eduardo cracking jokes as he searched for his coat and keys, Jon humming along to the radio-Mark knew that this was important.

   "Uh," he began, clearing his throat. "Guys?" Both of them turned to him. "Tomorrow is a full moon."

   The effect a single sentence had can truly be astonishing. Jon's half-smile disappeared and he reached over to shut off the radio. Eduardo paused in his search for his keys and straightened, giving Mark his full attention. Both their faces were set and serious.

   "Tomorrow?" Eduardo asked, furrowing his brows as he glanced between Jon and Mark. "Are you sure?"

   Mark nodded. "I checked."

   "You _should_ have checked earlier," Eduardo said, turning away to grab his coat. Mark bit his tongue in order to stop a retort. ' _Well, I'm so fucking sorry that after one night my exhausted self didn't check the god-forsaken calender. Sorry if I wanted to sleep_ _instead of staying up late at night trying to do a booty call, Ed. Fuck you.'_

How wonderful it would have been to say that.

   "Do we even have enough stuff?" Jon asked, fiddling with the end of his button up. "I could buy some from the store if we don't."

   The stuff Jon was refering to were the chains and weights in the basement they used whenever a full moon approached. The chains were, miracoulsy, strong enough to hold down a four foot wolf, even when the wolf was writhing around like a worm on a hook. The cinder blocks were used to hold the chains in place. There were also two rakes that had been bounded together by duct tape. Judging by the small scars littering Mark's legs and arms, it was used to keep the wolf at bay. 

   Chains, cinder blocks, two rakes stuck together...these were the things the three of them had decided on to use any time a full moon came upon them. Mark had requested the chains and cinderblocks while Eduardo had jokingly mentioned the double rake. When Mark asked for it, there had been a fight. Jon said it might cause him severe harm, Eduardo warned him that the thing might kill him. Still, he insisted until the relented and, with an uncharacteristic scowl on his face, Jon had bough the rakes. It was Eduardo who bounded them together. Mark didn't know who used it when he turned into a wolf and he didn't want to know.

   Eduardo bit his lip. "I could buy them after work, but I don't think I have enough money."

   "Didn't you have some?" Mark asked him.

   "Well, yeah, but than I saw this case of Diet Coke and it was on sale so I..." the Spaniard trailed off, shifting his eyes.

   "Wasn't that the money I gave you?"

   That made Eduardo freeze and Mark felt one of his eyebrows twitch. "Uh...Look at the time! I better go, Jon can bye the chains. See ya!" With that he was racing out the door into the cold October air. With a sigh, Mark turned to Jon and raised his eyebrows exasperatley. The shorter brunette mimmicked him and shrugged sheepishly; Mark couldn't help but feel grateful with the response.

   While Jon got ready, Mark went downstairs to check on the chains. He stopped short and couldn't help but stare at the wreckage littering the room. They had placed a picnic table down here, he remembered vaguely, but it- _he_ had torn it apart. Upon closer examination, he could see slash marks that looked supiciously like claws engraved in the woods. Swallowing, Mark headed toward the one of the three closets in the basement and opened it. Flicking on the light, a large box was revealed. Peering into it, Mark inhaled sharply. He had not expected half of the chains to be reduced to pieces. It looked like they were the size of the eggs Jon had cracked. ' _Atleast the blocks are in one piece,'_ his mind supplied to him in a pititful excuse of comfort. Mark couldn't help, but reach down and pluck a piece of broken chain from the box.

   These were the chains that he had asked for, the ones he had searched for in dozen of stores before practically fighting with a bearded man three times his size. Theses were the chains that held him down, the ones that kept Eduardo, Jon, so many unaware people, Hell, even himself safe. These were the chains that the storekeeper had said they were indestructible, that even if a missle hit it there would only be tiny cracks crawling around it like ants in a line. "You can put them though Hell and back, and they wont break. No sir," the storekeeper had claimed as he handed Mark his purchase.

   Now they lay in a damp cardboard box, shattered.

   And suddenly Mark is furious. Furious at that storekeeper for lying to him and making him pay 40 euros for a bunch of chains that are now shattered. Furious at the fact that the world decided to be a bitch to him. Furious that the only cure for being-of all things-a werewolf is silver through his heart. Furious that some little shit in a hood decided to make him turn into a monstorous furry creature every full moon. Furious at himself for slamming that door that one Halloween, but he had been tired and the covers were warm and he had every right to yell, right?

   "Mark?"

   Startled, the blonde man dropped the piece of chain he was holding and stood from his kneeled position, spinning around. Jon stood there in the doorway, dressed in his blue overcoat with a white knitted hat. He was gazing at Mark with concerned eyes.

   "What's wrong?"

   "Nothing," Mark replied. It didn't matter as Jon's beady eyes landed on the box. Stepping forward, the shorter man cringed sightly when he saw the broken pieces in the box. "Not all of them are broken," Mark couldn't help but say, as if it made up for the other broken pieces.

   "No," Jon murmured. He seemed lost in thought before perking up. "Well, I suppose we should head out so that we can buy some more."

   "Yes, uh, I'll get my coat."

   "Don't take too long!"

   "I never take too long."

   "Yes, you do."

   "When?"

   "You spent 10 minutes trying to choose between blue jeans or black jeans."

   "Dark  _blue_ jeans, Jon. Learn your colors."

   "I'm not in grade school!"

   Stiffling a laugh at the conversation they were having, Mark headed upstairs and couldn't help but feel that the banter seemed so out of place with the situation they were having. Still, it was better than being filled with rage vaused by broken pieces of chain.

 

~

 

   As the day wore on, Mark began to feel the symptons growing like a flame slowly spreading and he fell back into the regular routine of treating them. When his gums began to ache as his teeth charpened and made room for more, he brought out strawberry ice-cream to numb it. When any simple sound that shoudn't want him to reach for his headphones and turn the music to full volume, he tells his friends about it so that when they want to call him for whatever reason, they'll think twice. When blood appears suddenly in his mouth because of the new teeth, he gets a glass of water and some gum from Eduardo. When his nails appear too sharp for his liking, he tries to ignore it (Mark can tell when they're sharp whenever he's tapping them on a surface).

   It always happened. Before the day of a full moon, Mark's body would change slowly, but surely. You wouldn't notice any differences at first glance, but as you look closer you'd notice how he winces at random noises like talking and how his fingernails looked longer than usual. In a way, the day before is the easiest. Its only small annoyance that Mark can flick off dismissively.

   The next day is always the hardest, however.

   Sleep doesn't come easily for Mark. Its as thin as paper and flashes of pain punches hole into it. He would wake up in the middle of the night, gasping and groaning as it felt like the insides of his body were burning, a fiery burn that spread throughout his body. He would kick his covers off and pull them back on because the damn AC, but then the covers are on the floor and he's reaching for them again...

   "You look like shit," was Eduardo's greeting mixed in with Jon's "Good morning" and "How are you feeling?" Mark only groaned in response and shuffled into the the living room where the couch looked more inviting and comfortable than usual. He dropped himself onto it and sighed with relief; his stomach groweled, demanding food, but Mark was too tired to deal with it. All Mark wanted was to curl up somewhere warm and sleep away without worrying about anything.

   When he was finally able to rouse himself from the comfieness of the couch he saw that a plate of bagles along with a cup of coffee had been set out for him. Mark stared at them and thought that his friends didn't deserve this. They didn't deserve to tie up a bunc of rakes in order to protect themselves. They didn't deserve to spend their money on piles and piles of chains. They didn't deserve to have to cancel plans because the moon decided to be full. They didn't deserve to have to hear Mark scream and howl in agony as his own body grew into something more dangerous. They didn't deserve to feel helpless whenever Mark cried out (they don't show it, but he can tell, he was always good at reading his friends). They didn't deserve any of this.

   Mark felt something heavy sit in his chest. He ate quickly before retreating into his room. There he tried everything he could think of to distract himself from hiself. Books, his phone, rying on new clothing styles, searching for any job positions that required a model of some sorts with a good pay. Hell, he even brought out  _Game of Thrones_ fan fiction. All of these helped him, but it wasn't enough. He knew it before he could feel it.

   As time passed, Mark felt ansty. Restless, fidgety, worked up, on tetherhooks, whatever someone could call it. He had to move. Pacing the room helped, but soon he would catch a glimpse of his window his mind said, ' _It looks so warm out, a walk_ _wouldn't hurt. Fresh air is good, maybe it'll help you. Wouldn't breathing the cold air feel nice?' Maybe it'll help with your headache. Maybe tonight don't have to stay indoors._ Still, another part of his mind screamed,' _Stay indoors, stay indoors, stay indoors. What if you stay in for too long and its night and you're too far from home and you're phone is dead so you might ran rapid around London. What if someone sees through you and calls someone who'll cut you up and tear you apart to see what makes you tick? Just read a book, you've read that one two times, third times a charm. Just stay inside. You can't control this.'_

Suddenly, Mark is starving. Craving for somehting warm and along the lines of meat. He takes two steps at a time as he heads downstairs into the kitchen. The fridge door is wretched open as Mark frantically searches for anything thats meat. His sense of smell has improved, as it always does, and he can smell greens, dairy, a box of donuts, and there in the middle of all of it are two packages of sausages. Mark can smell the salt, the spice and his hunger urges him to rip the packets open and poor them into his mouth.

   Instead, he forces himself to grab a plate and help himself. ' _Four is good...five isn't that much...okay too more I'm sure no one will mind.'_

"Aw man."

   Mark almost dropped the package. Turning around he sees a dejected Eduardo staring mournfully at the sausages on Mark's plate. "My sausages," he says, with a hint of a whine in his voice. He's still wearing his white cook outfit dotted with food stains.

   "You can buy more," Mark tells him shortly. He pushes the plate in the microwave and punches in the time. "With you're own money," he added.

   Eduardo rolled his eyes, opening the fridge and reaching for the box of donuts. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you," he muttered as he withdrew a chocolate covered donut from the pastry box. "So, how are you feeling?"

   "I feel...hungry," Mark says slowly as he watched, hypnotized, as the plate of sausages spin around and around. 

   "Oh, yeah. The cravings are sitting in, aren't they?"

   "Cravings?" The microwave beeped and out the sausages came, sizzling slightly and glistening, steam rising from them. "I guess you can call them that."

   Eduardo had opened his mouth again, but Mark didn't even bother to listen. The world seemed to cease to exist as he stabbed one of the sausages witha fork and shove them into his mouth. They were still scalding hot from the microwave, but he did not care. All that mattered was how hungry he was and that he needed more so he began shovelig the food into his mouth, relishing in the taste and warmth and texture...

   It was only when his fork scraped against the plate-a cringe worthy sound-did Mark return to reality. He looked down and the disappointemnt he felt at seeing a grease covered plate was so great that it worried him. Still, his stomach was begging for more.

   "Do we have more food?" Mark asked Eduardo, who had been watching the whole thing with wide eyes.

   "Uh," Eduardo began, drumming his fingers on the table. "Yeah, I think we have some cobabs in the freezer." He stood and picked up Mark's plate. "I'll get them."

   "Thanks." Mark watched as the Spaniard headed over to the freezer to pull out a packet of chicken cobabs and it struck him that this was a rare sight. Eduardo had a motto he ddn't even have to say: do it yourself. Wanted him to pass you the remote? Do it yourself. Needed him to take out the trash? Do it yourself. Wanted help to steal some halos from heaven? Do it yourself. Unless you had a can of Diet Coke on you, Eduardo wouldn't do anything for you. But when he did then it happened only once in a blue moon. ' _Or in my case, a full moon.'_

"You never ususally cook for us," Mark couldn't help but point out. It was true; Jon was the one who drowned himself in cooking books and came up with dinner. Meanwhile, Eduardo claimed that they could do it themselves.

   Eduardo scoffed as he waited for the cobabs to cook. "I spend almost all my day cooking for other strangers who don't even thank me, Mark. Of course I don't want to cook at home, I'm tired." After a moment he added,"But, you're about to turn into a werewolf soon so, yeah."

   Blinking, Mark checks the time on his phone. 6:20. He had not noticed how much time had passed, too busy trying to control himself.

   The microwave beeps for a secong time and Mark knows he's drooling as soon as Eduardo is pulling the cobabs out. When the plate is set infront of him again, he all but rips the meat of the sticks. It tastes better than anything he's had and relief is filling him as he continues to eat.

   Too soon is the plate empty and Mark is picking up the sticks again, ganwing on it like a bone for the tiny strips of chicken that are clinging stubbornly to the slim piece of wood. When he's done, he sits back, gasping.

   "Holy shit," he hears Eduardo mutter.

   Mark frowns at him. "You've seen me eat before a full moon. Why act so surprised?"

   Eduardo shrugs. "I'm still not use to the whole wolf thing." The words are spoken casually, as if he were talking about the weather. Mark suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

   "I hate this, Eduardo." The words came out in a rush. "I-I hate this so much. This whole thing hurts, can't even go outside 'cause I'm so afraid someone might see me and cut me up or-or might kill me. Or I might stay out too long and I turn into a wolf and might kill somone. I-Fuck I can't even sleep properly! I'm hungry all the time, every thing is too loud and there's blood in my mouth and I fucking hate my nails. And what if I forget to check and the full moon comes and I'm not chained up and I h-"

   There are hands on his shoulders and suddenly Eduardo is infront if him, talking, but he can't hear him. Mark shakes his head and he still can't breathe, how can't Eduardo see that. Then, he's being shaken roughly and now he can hear what the other man is saying.

   "Mark. Mark, shit! Calm down, look at me. Breathe, just try to breathe. Through your nose, try to breathe through your nose" Eduardo is holding him tightly as Mark struggles to breathe. Slowly, he regains his breathe and notices how hard he's gripping the table. His nails have dug into them, etching grooves into the wood. Mark withdraws his hands quickly. 

   "Hey." He turns to his friend, who has taken his hands off sweater covered shoulders. "Mark, I get it. I get why you're scared, but listen to me. Me and Jon-we're here for you. I know you would never hurt us, wolf or not. Just." Eduardo is pulling that face again, the one where he can't find the right words. "We're all scared, but we're not leaving. No matter what."

   All Mark can do is nod. A tiny part of him snarls that  _you did this to them_ , but he ignores it for the feeling of gratefullness.

 

~

 

   Mark is in pain. His body feels on fire, a steady burn that is reaching the tips of his toes and fingers and that constantly brings tears to his eyes. He's curled up on his be, he's pacing his room, he's washing blood from his mouth and fingers. Nothing is distracing him. He can't touch his books, for fear of ripping them. The same goes with his phone. Every nose has been amplified and he wants to run from the noise, to somewhere it can't reach.

   He hates this.

   A knock on his door makes him jump. Looking around, Mark sees Jon in the doorway, gazing at him with dark, sad eyes. Mark wants to shout, wants to tell him to not be sad. Instead, he asks ,"Now?"

   Jon nods, biting his lips and disappears out of view. Mark stands and, wincing, makes his way to the door. He catches a glimpse of himself in his bedroom mirror. Eyes too dark instead of his natural light blue eyes, lips slightly raised because there are two many teeth in his mouth, revealing fangs, a tear in his shirt that he never noticed. He glances down and sees that the toes of his feet look to long to be human. Mark has seen himself like this before but it still throws him off balance.

   Mark heads downstairs slowly and sees the light in the basement on. There are voices sounding down their, hushed in their tones. Mark feels his throat grow tight as he heads down. Eduardo and Jon are there, pulling out the newly bought chains and cinder blocks. They both looked up when Mark came down. No one said a word. The air in the room was tense and all Mark wanted to do was get rid of this heavy feeling in his chest. Instead, he stepped forward and let his friends wrap him up in chains.

   Eduardo is the one who does it while Jon busies himself with the blocks, biting his lips so much that Mark fears that he'll start to bleed. The chains are wrapped around his ankles, his wrists which are drawn behing his back. Crosses over his back and fastened to the cinder blocks. Mark feels numb, like he can't even feel the cold of the chains seeping into his bones.

   Suddenly, he doubles over as a wave of pain washed over him. A shriek excaped him and he hears his friends calling his name. Instead he tries to breathe through it.

   There's a hand on his shoulder and, looking up, Mark sees Jon staring at him with worry and horror written all of his face. The heavy feeling in his chest intensifies.

   "Jon, lets go!" Eduardo calls. He's on the steps, but Jon ignores him. Instead he helps Mark stand and, after staring at him, hugs him, hard. Mark freezes and his throat tightens. Before he reurns the hug, Jon is gona along with Eduardo and the sound of the door locking is the loudest thing Mark has ever heard.

   With no one around, he can cry out in pain without seeing anyone wince. He can curse and tug at his chains and gasp as the burning feeling grows. Its as if his bones are shifting, growing, popping in and out of place. Mark screams and it comes out in a twisted howl as something worms out of his skin all over. Nails that don't feel like nails claw at his shirt which is in the way. There's a ripping sound and he can't tell if its from the shirt or himself. There's a sharp metalic sent and he can't tell if its the chains or his blood. His body still grows and Mark wants it to stop _stopstopstopstopwhycantitsopsomeonehelpmeSTOP-_

   It stops.

   He's large and powerful. The pain is fading away like fog on glass. But there's not enough room to move so he paces and paces until it drives him insane. There's something for him to tear up and its staisfying to hear the sound of cloth rendering because of his own jaws.  Still, he feels restless. A growl builds up in his chest, up his throat, and out. Why was he caged like this? Another growl escapes him and suddenly pacing doesn't help. He wants out _he wantsouthewantsouthewantsouthewantsouthewantsoutWANTSOUTWANTSOUTWANTSOUTWANTSOUT_

_OUT!_

 

_~_

 

   When its over, Jon and Eduardo wake him up so that he can clean himself. They patch up the wounds he's made from last night and make sure he's comfortable on the couch. They bring him his books and tip toe while he sleeps, which is mostly all the time. When he is awake, Jon forces him to eat while Eduardo buys more supplies.

   All of this makes Mark feel safe, protected under soft blankets and warm soup. But even with all of this, he can't unsee Jon's horrified face or Eduardo's screaming that one night he managed to break free from his chains. He can't unhear his own voice turning into a howl or that little girl's giggle as she cursed him. He will never get used to Eduardo cooking meat for him or Jon walking egg shells around him or his own body shifting into something that might kill someone.

   He will never get used to every full moon.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ..........did I do good?
> 
> FACTS  
> -Wolves are 2-3 ft in height  
> -Eduardo knocking over a pot of sause is a reference to Ratatoullie where Linguini does knock over a pot of sauce.  
> -Humans have 32 teeths while wolves have 4  
> -Mark on the day of the full moon was inspired by then nickolodian movie Boy Who Cried Werewolf when Jordan, one of the characters that gets turned into a werewolf, is acting strange on her date.  
> -The Game of Throne series has 284 deaths...........how the FUCK are ya'lll alive???  
> -That bit about stealing halos? Yeah you know how Edd, Mat and Tom went to hell? Well what if the neighbores went to heaven? I just head cannon.  
> -The little shit in a hood Mark is refering too is the Little Girl that posessed Matt and Edd in Trick or Threat.
> 
> So yeah this is my contribution to werewolf Mark. Please tell me how I did bc I feel like the ending was a but rushed. See ya next time scouts!


End file.
